Preparing For The Worst
by darkphoneix
Summary: Well, I've never written Harry Potter fiction before, I stick mainly to Ranma, but I felt the urge to try this, so give me a chance. Harry is forced by Dumbledore to take an abbreviated Auror training course to be able to better protect himself against V
1. Prologue

Preparing For the Worst - Prologue  
  
Red lightning streamed from the tip of Harry's wand, snaking through the air to strike at a fist sized silver sphere that floated half a dozen feet above the ground. Around him, others duplicated the feet, though most fell short of their targets and ended up striking the wooden dummies that had been set up to represent bystanders. His brow furrowed in concentration, sweat oozing down his forehead, Harry strained to hold the stunning spell for as long as he could while keeping it powerful enough to be effective.   
  
One by one, the other witches and wizards lost the struggle and lowered their wands, unable to maintain their attacks. Harry didn't notice anything beyond his own target, which was now beginning to glow an angry red and had begun to lose its shape, becoming molten. The sphere's magic failed just as Harry gasped and lowered his wand. He stood panting, staring down the range at what had once been an enchanted silver ball but was now little more than useless slag. For a moment he worried about what the bull-necked instructor would say about his destruction of Ministry property, but then he started to feel the eyes on him.  
  
Harry turned around, ready to be chewed out for his mistake. Instead of a verbal assault, the young man was met by something akin to stunned silence. Harry puled his glasses off and wiped the sweat from his eyes with the sleeve of his robes, not for the first time wishing he could be back at Hogwarts where there were people his own age, not to mention his only friends. No, Dumbledore had felt it would be in Harry's best interest if he were to spend six months in the equivalent of magical bootcamp.  
  
Full time Aurors were required to attend a two week long annual refresher program if they wished to keep their licences. Most of Harry's classmates fell into this category. Almost all of them were grim, serious-faced men and women who took their jobs to heart. They showed Harry respect for his growing abilities and for who he was, but didn't go out of their way to become better aquainted with the young man.  
  
On the other side of the fence were the witches and wizards who paid a fee for the instruction. They did it for various reasons, though Harry was convinced none of them would be here if Voldemort hadn't arisen once again. Harry didn't know any of them very well, since he was only allowed to associate with them during certain classes, on account that they could ve agents of the Dark Lord.  
  
There were younger witches and wizards at the facility, but they were in training to be Aurors and weren't considered powerful or experienced enough to protect Harry in the event of a Death Eater attack. It all added up to Harry be very lonely, despite being surrounded by comrades.  
  
"Well then," Peachpit, the short, stocky Auror who supervised most of Harry's classes began,"I'm famished. Anyone who doesn't wish to starve can accompany me to the mess hall." Suprisingly, the wizard sounded subdued, a much appreciated change from his usual shouting.   
  
Harry sighed gratefully, trying to ignore his trembling knees. He slipped his wand into its wrist sheath and pushed his glasses back on. There had been talk of contact lenses, much harder to lose than glasses, but they irritated his eyes so badly that Harry preffered the glasses. These were charmed, a concession he had made with Dumbledore. Nothing fancy, just a simple unbreakable charm and and an impaired removal charm.  
  
The walk back to the main grounds wasn't too long, and by the time Harry sat down with his tray of food, most of the weariness from his overextended stunning spell had faded. He sat alone, trying to picture what Ron and Hermione were doing at that moment. Probably eating. The food wasn't bad in the mess hall, it just couldn't hold a candle to what the house elves produced back at school.  
  
Sitting alone, Harry had plenty of time to think. He couldn't help imagining how difficult it would be to catch up with his studies when he was allowed back at Hogwarts. How was he going to make up six months worth of work in the four months he would have before the term ended and the OWLS were given? Hermione would help, of course. Not that he had much choice about that; Hermione would help him with or without his consent.  
  
There was one advantage he could see in attending this program. When he got back to Hogwarts, he very well might be able to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Oh well, no sense in lamenting things he had no power over.  
  
Harry looked up in suprise as someone joined him at his table. That was a first. It was Peachpit, and he looked as grave and surly as usual. In the place of a tray, he carried as knobby sheet of metal that Harry recognized as the target he had destroyed a short while ago. Oh boy, he was in for it now.  
  
"Boy, that was a fine performance out there on the range. I haven't seen the like the old Dumbledore paid us a visit over a decade ago. Just to be on the safe side, I want you to visit Madam Pomfrey before your Ap-Dp class." Before Harry could gather his wits to speak, Peachpit stood and clapped him on the shoulder, then bustled away with the target's remains tucked under his arm.  
  
Fine performance? He wasn't in trouble? The man had came across as almost kind. The suprise was pushed aside by the instructor's command to see Madam Pomfrey. Harry groaned at the thought. The older sister of the Madam Pomfrey he knew at Hogwarts, the head physician at the facility took her job much too seriously in Harry's opinion. He'd accidentally burned his hand two weeks earlier, nothing serious, and she had kept him under observation for two days, even making him wear one of those backless hospital robes.  
  
She would probably shove a few pounds of chocolate down his throat and prescribe him an exercise regime to increase his stamina.  
  
****  
  
Harry left the infirmary feeling both lightheaded and overly heavy, an unusual combination produced by an enormous block of chocolate and a vile tasting potion that he could still smell even after leaving. Chocolate was good and all, but Harry couldn't see its medicinal value. If this kept up, he wouldn't be able to stomach the candy in a few months.  
  
Ap-Dp, or Apparation-Disapparation, was technically illegal for any witch or wizard under the age of eighteen. That didn't stop Dumblebore or any of the instructors from placing him in the class. His objection that too much work was being given to a fifteen year old, student wizard went unheard, more likely ignored. Dumbledore had just smiled and told him to do his best.  
  
The grounds of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were enchanted in much the same way as Hogwarts. Apparating or disapparating on them was impossible, with the exception of an underground cavern roughly the size of a Quidditch playing field. No one could apparate into or out of the cavern, but a witch or wizard could do both within it. On his off hours, Harry was allowed to use the space to ride his broom so he wouldn't grow rusty at Quidditch.  
  
Harry looked at his watch as he reached the tiny shed that covered the spiral staircase leading into the cavern. If he hurried he wouldn't be late. The stairs were illuminated by torches that hung from brackets in the walls to either side of him. There was some sort of charm on the stairs that shortened the descent enormously, but it still took Harry over five minutes of nearly running down them to reach the entrance to the cavern itself.  
  
Far from appearing dark or creepy, the cavern was brightly lit by a tiny imitation sun that hung from the roof. Birds flew about, singing to one another, and to his left a fish of sime kind jumped from the water of a small pond and threw a rock at a purple squirrel. Harry caught site of his classmates and hurried over to them. This class was smaller, only six other people, all of whom could already perform the feat but were in for the renewal of the license that allowed them to apparate and disapparate. Harry was glad that the tedious affair only needed to be undertaken once a decade. Otherwise he may have not have even bothered with learning in the first place.  
  
Since he was the only person present who was actually learning, Harry not only performed poorly in comparison to the others, he also had to stay after class with the decrepit old witch who taught and get special tutoring.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Potter, you've finally arrived, and just in the nick of time, I see," rasped the witch who leaned heavily on her cane. Harry wondered if she ever even left the cavern. Surely she couldn't have climbed the stairs in her condition.  
  
Class for the day consisted of apparating into large glowing circles spread throughout the cavern. Harry actually managed to succeed a couple of times, though he missed far more often. The final attempt missed the pond by about half a foot. The week before he hadn't been so lucky. The fish still snickered at him when they saw him.  
  
****  
  
Early the next morning, as he was trying to force feed himself something that was supposed to pass for eggs, a shadow passed over Harry's table and he looked up to see the mail owls circling the hall, many of them narrowly avoiding the low ceiling. Hedwig settled down before him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry stroked her wing while she sipped some of the orange juice from his goblet, then sampled his 'eggs'. He laughed as she coughed disapprovingly and glared at his breakfast plate balefully. The white owl looked at Harry, then the plate, then back to Harry, a look of sympathy somehow showing on her feathered face.  
  
"What have you got for me, girl?" he asked, untying the letter from Hedwig's outstretched leg. She hooted at him, probably asking how she could possibly know. Harry had just gotten the knot undone when another owl settled down next to Hedwig, this one a smaller brown barn owl. It hooted at Hedwig and she hooted back somewhat snappishly. Harry ignored his owl's bad temper and offered the newly arrived owl his goblet while he untied the smaller letter from its leg.  
  
Once its message was delivered, the barn owl hooted a farewell and launched itself out a nearby window. "Go have a rest in the owlery," Harry told Hedwig. "If I have any messages for you I'll bring them later this evening." He stroked her wing one last time before she flew from the table, her wings beating steadily. Harry still had an hour before his first lesson, so he opened the letter Hedwig had delivered.  
  
Harry,  
  
I don't have much time, got Potions in a minute. Since   
Hedwig's already here, I'm sending this with her. Dumbledore   
says we can visit you this coming weekend. Don't get too   
excited. Hermione's bringing her books and she's planning to   
help you catch up on everything you're missing here.  
  
Ron  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin to himself, even with the prospect of Hermione trying to spend the whole weekend badgering him into studying. He had exchanged messages with them over the last few weeks, but it would be good to see them again. Feeling much happier than when he'd woken up this morning, Harry picked up the other letter he'd recieved. It was sealed with golden wax and had the Ministry of Magic's seal stamped on it. Wondering what the message was, Harry cracked the seal and read...  
  
Mr. Potter,  
  
It has recently come to our attention that your father was   
an illegal animagi. In hopes of acertaining whether or not you   
too have the ability, Ministry Wizard and animagi expert Willard   
Crump will be arriving on the afternoon of Monday, October 9th  
to test you. If so, he will remain as your instructor until your  
return to Hogwarts where Professor Minerva McGonagall will pick  
up instruction.  
  
Assistant Director, Ministry of Magic,  
Morella Creevey  
  
Animagi? It had taken his father and his friends years of secret study and work to become animagi. The last thing Harry needed was more work. He put the two letters in the pocket of his robes, trying to look forward to the weekend without thinking of the Monday that would follow it.  
  
****  
  
"Do not treat it like a whip!" Peachpit shouted. 'It' was a dangerous spell Harry wished he didn't have to learn. The old witch who Peachpit was fussing at lowered her wand and glared at him. "Looks like it's back to the rope for you, Esmerel," he snapped.  
  
Harry didn't see why the woman was having so much trouble. All you had to do was call out the phrase 'meager cleaver' and point your wand at something. Once you decided where you wanted it to go, a thin ribbon of light would appear between your wand and whatever you had orignially pointed it at. Harry's was green. The spell's effects were what Harry was having so much trouble with. He snapped his wand, sending the line of emerald green light in a wide looping wave. It passed through three wooden dummies and continued until reaching its end where it disappeared and waited for another movement from the wand.  
  
The dummies he had struck didn't immediately appear effected by the spell, but then they each toppled over, falling to the ground, leaving on their legs and part of the torso upright. Where the wood of the dummies had been cut by the spell was a surface smoother than any glass and an edge sharper than a razor. Harry tried not to think of what a real person struck in such a way would look like.  
  
"More than one wizard has lost an arm or leg to a mishandled cleaver spell," Peachpit pointed out. "Once Esmerel has learned how to keep herself from being minced, we'll move on to defending against the cleaver spell.  
  
****  
  
"Ooof," Harry gasped, the air driven forcefully from his lungs as an invisible blast of magic knocked him off his feet. As he climbed to his knees, coughing violently, the instructor spoke.  
  
"He's a quick little bugger, and younger than the rest of you," the tall black man said. "If he couldn't dodge the spell, what hope do the rest of you have?" He surveyed the students. Harry wanted to protest that he could have dodged it, if only he'd been able to see it, but he couldn't breathe, much less talk at the moment.  
  
After a minute of silence broken only by Harry's wheezing, the instructor sighed. "If you can't avoid something, turn away from it. Force the spell to strike you in the arm, preferably not your wand arm. If young Harry had done so, his arm may have hurt, but he would have still been able to put up a fight."  
  
Harry finally managed to pull himself together, though his chest still ached badly. He took several deep breathes once he was back on his feet and tried not to show how much he still hurt, or else he may have ended up with another session with Madam Pomfrey. "Split up into pairs and practice on one another. Use only the fistius spell. No headshots or low blows. Potter, you're my partner."  
  
Harry kept telling himself that it was Friday and that this was the last lesson of the day. The thought didn't help much. It kept getting interrupted by visions of bubbling potions and the lime green walls of Madam Pomfrey's infirmary. If he was injured, Dumbledore would surely cancel the visit from Ron and Hermione. To Harry's suprise, Mr. Whitefield sheathed his wand.  
  
"All right, Harry, I got you, now it's your turn to get me," he said, grinning broadly. Not about to question his luck, Harry pulled his wand from the leather sheath strapped to his arm and took aim at the teacher.  
  
"Fistius!" he shouted, twirling his wand slightly like Whitefield had demonstrated and picturing in his mind an invisible fist of air flying towards the wizard. His target was already in motion, turning so that his left side was facing Harry, but before he could complete the movement, Harry saw something strike his shoulder, impacting his robes and spinning him around to fall heavily to the ground.  
  
Harry rushed over to the man, intent of making sure he hadn't harmed him. The instructor turned himself over and winked at Harry, then grimaced in pain and cupped his shoulder. Harry helped him to his feet and watched anxiously as the man rotated his arm stiffly. "Got a good arm on you, Potter. Fast too, didn't expect it to hit me so soon."   
  
****  
  
Walking back to his dorm after a hasty dinner, Harry wondered how Ron and Hermione would be arriving. The question was answered for him when he saw a witch standing in the middle of the wand targetting range. She had gathered up a pile of splintered and sliced wooden dummies and used her wand to ignite them into a small bonfire. Harry didn't really know what she was doing until the flames turned violet and people started filing out of them. Professor McGonagall came first, followed by Ron and Hermione. Harry expected it to end there, but he was wrong. Once his two best friends were clear, others started to appear, all recognizable as Gryffindors. When the fire finally went back to a normal yellowish-orange, more than fifty people stood on the range.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes - I've never written any fiction for Harry Potter, and never thought I would, but I've recently reread the books and had the urge to try my hand at it. I'm not really sure how good this is, but I'm not to unhappy with it, so I'm gonna release it to the public and see what you all think. 


	2. Chapter 1

Preparing For The Worst - Chapter 1  
  
The weekend had been pleasant, and Harry was grateful for the company of Ron and Hermione, as well as his fellow Gryffindors, but the time had flown by and now he was alone again. Willard Crump would be arriving soon to be testing Harry for the ability to assume an animal form. Harry didn't know whether he wanted the ability or not. It promised to be useful at some point in the future, but becoming animagi involved years of study better suited to someone like Hermione.  
  
Of course, being able to turn into a dragon could work to his advantage in any number of situations, not that any such transformation was possible. He recalled vaguely Professor McGonagall mentioning in his first year transfiguration class that an animal form rarely exceeded the animagus' human weight. There were exceptions, James Potter and Sirius Black among them, who could assume the form of a stag and dog, respectively. James' stag must have outweighed his human form three to one, and Sirius, while smaller, was still an enormous mut that could have nearly passed for a small pony.  
  
What if he wasted a year or two only to discover that he turned into a garden snake or perhaps a mouse? Harry shrugged the matter aside in favor of groaning over the upcoming self-defense course. It involved a good deal more physical exertion than he was accustommed to, and was painful as an added bonus, no matter how much enchanted padding the gym floor sported. The aurors all seemed real big on this particular aspect of combat, many using their free time to spar with each other or an unoccupied instructor.  
  
Harry had no illusions about his own skill in hand to hand combat, as the instructors called the torture sessions. He was small for his age and not particularly strong or well coordinated. It was one thing to fly a broomstick, where quick reflexes and instinct played as much a part as anything learned, but quite another to fight a man twice your size and considerably more skilled. Harry realized he was complaining again, even if it was only in his head, and berated himself for thinking only of himself.  
  
People had died to protect him, his parents namely, and the least he could do was try to learn how to keep himself alive.  
  
****  
  
It was a much dishevelled Harry who limped into his small room. He'd twisted his ankle badly while being thrown to the mats for approximately the fiftieth time, but had played down the injury in favor of not being forced into a visit with Madam Pomfrey, Madam Pomfrey's well meaning, but completely overbearing older sister. He could imagine the fit she would throw, probably ending in a week of bedrest and a pound of chocolate!  
  
Harry was suprised to find a middle-aged wizard waiting in his room. He'd completely forgotten about Crump's imminent arrival, and now he would have to act like his swelling ankle wasn't screaming at him for being to chicken to face the infirmary. Willard Crump was a pale man with shoulder length brown hair that was receding badly. His face was buried in a book he must have brought with him, and he was obviously very engrossed in its contents if he hadn't heard Harry's less than quiet arrival.  
  
A green-trimmed black cloak hung from a peg in the wall and Harry couldn't quite keep himself from staring at the black robes the wizard wore. They were covered in green pokedots of verying size. It wouldn't do to laugh at the man, not yet anyway. Harry cleared his throat more loudly than strictly necessary, and the wizard sitting on the edge of his bed nearly jumped out of his robes in shock. The book flew into the air and Crump had his wand half drawn before he actually caught sight of Harry. He relaxed, letting his wand fall back into his pocket, just in time to be hit on the head by his now falling book.  
  
The older wizard flushed slightly, gathering up his book and slipping it into one of the volumous pockets of his robe. He coughed self- consciously, and rose, extending his hand to Harry in greeting. [Hello, Harry, pleasure to meet you,[ he said as Harry shook his proferred hand. [I'm afraid I can get slightly wrapped up in my reading from time to time. Always carry a good book, you know, just to keep busy.[  
  
Harry was at a momentary loss for words, but after a few moments of silence said,[Hi, uh, don't worry, you kinda startled me too. I'd forgotten about our appointment.[  
  
Crump shrugged good naturedly. [I arrived early. I'm still not really due for another hour or so. This has just got me a bit excited, finding another potential animagus. The gift is so rare, though not so rare as some, that we at the Ministry try to bring it out in any wizard or witch we can find. It came as quite a shock when we learned that your father had become animagi while still in school, without any experienced instructors.[   
  
Harry nodded along while slowly making his way over to his bed. He sighed in relief as weight was taken off of his injured foot. Crump continued to talk.  
  
[Only eight known animagi exist in Europe. I expect there are no more than a hundred spread across the whole globe, registered or not. Some say the talent for it is dying out, much like parseltongue and wandless apparation. If you ask me, we just aren't finding those with the potential early enough, but no one bothers to ask me, if you get my drift, so...[ he let the words trail off, seeming to notice Harry's slightly glazed expression, at last.  
  
[Yes, well, the testing is really quite simple. Only another animagus can perform the spell, of course, at least as far as I know.[ Crump pulled his wand from his pocket, then followed it with an enormous book that simply shouldn't have been able to fit into such a small space. If Harry wasn't mistaken, the text was longer than little Professor Flitwhick, the charms teacher at Hogwarts, was tall.  
  
He heaved the book down next to Harry, causing the bed to sag greatly, creaking under the combined weight of the book and Harry. [Just a moment. Revealioso![ the wizard muttered strongly, pointing his wand at Harry. Nothing happened that Harry could see or feel, but Crump seemed satisfied with his spell. [Just take your time, now, young Harry. Flip through that book and focus on each animal as you do so. I'll do the rest of the work.[  
  
Harry had been expecting something more unpleasant. Something involving needles and blood, and inevitably Madam Pomfrey. If all he had to do was look through a book for a little while, he'd do it and not complain. A little while turned out to several hours. Each collosal page was filled with dozens of magically animated animals. Every imaginable mammal, bird, reptile, amphibian, and sea creature was contained within its pages, and when he finally turned the last page, his eyes gritty and aching, Harry didn't think he would have so greatly minded needles and Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Harry looked up to see Willard Crump staring sadly at the book. Harry was about to say something comforting to the disappointed wizard when Crump picked up the slab of a book and stuffed it into his pocket. He pulled a much smaller volume from that same pocket. Smaller yes, normal sized, no. Only two feet on a side, this one didn't look nearly as daunting.  
  
[Don't be disappointed,[ Crump sighed. [The odds were never in your favor, I fear. Well, just for the sake of thoroughness, take a look through this one. It's an index of known magical creatures. There have only been two recorded cases of animagi forms possessing innate magical abilities, maybe you'll be the third.[ From Crump's tone, Harry doubted this tome would yield anything more than the first one had. Still, this had gotten him out of the day's remaining classes, so he might as well see it through to the end.  
  
****  
  
Harry was cringing away from the sight of a coiled basilisk and hurriedly turning the page when Crump let out a whoop of joy and leapt from his chair. The wizard did a little dance that made him look even more ridiculous in his green spotted black robes. [We found it, boy?[ He crowed triumphantly. [What creatures are on that last page?[  
  
Harry all of a sudden felt as though he had been doused with ice water. It felt like a lead weight had been dropped on his chest and he was having great trouble drawing breath. There had to be a mistake, some fault in Crump's spell. Harry could hear his blood pounding in his ears, throbbing in his temples. A basilisk! Maybe Crump had really detected the affinity with the barking mole. Harry prayed for that with every fiber of his being while his numb hand turned the page back without his direction.  
  
Crump was standing over him now, and the whoop of success at the discovery of another animagi died on his lips when he saw what rested on the page. The snake was to scale with all the other creatures in the book, and thus had its own page, where most of the others were squeezed in with several others. As Crump watched, the basilisk shifted its massive body, revealing the half crushed skeleton of what was obviously a human resting beneath it.  
  
Crump's, [Oh shit,] summed up what Harry was feeling rather well.  
  
****  
  
Courtesy of a powerful sleeping draught, Harry was more or less in a coma. Madam Pomfrey thought it best for now, until someone could figure out how to talk to the boy and deal with any shock he may be experiencing. Willard Crump was pacing the infirmary nervously when Albus Dumbledore, accompanied by Minerva McGonagall swept into the room. They were followed closely by Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and Lenora Garland, a skilled witch who also had the ability to assume the form of a rabbit at will. Crump had seen Lenora in her animal form more than once, and he had yet to see a natural rabbit that was even half the size of Lenora.  
  
[I fail to see what all the fuss is about,[ Dumbledore said after a quick visual examination of Harry's sleeping form. He patted Harry's limp hand affectionately and turned back to face the others.  
  
[Fuss?![ the Minister all but sputtered. [For heaven's sake, man, a basilisk! What kind of form is that?! Do you have any idea how people will react to that type of information?[ Fudge was on his way to going red in the face.  
  
Dumbledore met the other man's wild gaze calmly. [A basilisk is a very powerful, immensely magical creature able to ignore or shrug off most forms of magic. It also has a deadly stare and a poisonous bite that only the tears of a phoenix can fully counteract. All in all, if Harry eventually learns to assume the form of a fully mature basilisk, I for one will sleep much better at night knowing he has one more weapon with which to defend himself.[  
  
[If standard size constraints remain true to form, Potter will be nothing more than a large snake,[ Professor McGonagall stated firmly. [Even when Harry finishes puberty and is fully grown, he won't be a large man. A mature basilisk would outweigh Harry by several dozen times, and only when the creature is fully mature does it manifest any powers whatsoever.[ Dumbledore smiled at McGonagall in appreciation.  
  
[All valid points,[ Fudge snapped,[but think of the press...[  
  
****  
  
It took a stern talking to by Dumbledore and a visit from Sirius to convince Harry that it was in his own best interests to go ahead with Crump and attempt to learn to become a basilisk. Harry had pretty much decided that Destiny didn't particularly like him and that Fate positively despised him. Days passed by in a blur. So what if he could now apparate with ease or produce a Stunning spell so powerful that it was now lethal? What good was all of this if his friends all ended up thinking of him as a monster? It had been bad enough after Rita Skeeter had published her article the previous summer. That had only made him look insane.   
  
People had believed her, amazingly, and many had treated Harry like a rabid animal after that, trying to keep their distance in the event that he went crazy and turned them all into mice. Harry couldn't even imagine how people would treat him if they ever found out that he may eventually be able to turn into a basilisk. He couldn't even picture how Ron or Hermione would react, and they were his best friends.  
  
Crump had gotten over the initial shock of Harry's potential form and was going about teaching his pupil the ins and outs of animagi transformation. He'd demonstrated his own transformation into a goat a number of times, but insisted that Harry was so far away from even beginning to actually change that demonstrations were largely pointless.   
  
Advanced transfiguration wouldn't normally be taught until Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Crump had accellerated the curricullum, partially anyway. Daily, Harry practiced changing small, simple objects into snakes of as large a size as he could manage. He supposed it was to help him reach a larger size, possibly even a fully grown form, where he could use the powers of a basilisk.  
  
****  
  
[Some wizards like to think of this as Dark magic,[ an auror named Bob said,[because it involves the use of blood. Some wizards can barely buckle their own boots, though, so I don't pay much attention to foolish talk. You've got your wands?[  
  
Harry nodded, looking down at his old wand and the new one Mr. Olliavandre had sent. The newer one wouldn't respond quite as well as Harry's old one, not until the old one was destroyed, but the wizard who would assist him in the upcoming ritual insisted that he have two.  
  
[Good. Now, Mr. Potter, let me explain why you bought a new wand and had Madam Pomfrey drain a pint of your blood.[ Bob rolled up the baggy sleeve of his burgundy robe and gestured to the leather sheath that housed to wands. He drew one of them and negligently threw it across the room. Harry turned to follow its course, but stopped when he saw the wand fly back past him and into Bob's hand. [Old auror trick. Mighty hard to disarm a fellow if his wand keeps coming back to him, don't you think?[ He grinned and Harry couldn't help but grin back.  
  
[Okay, that's the first facet of the charm, here's the other.[ Bob laid the wand on the top of his cleared desk. [Go on, pick it up.[   
  
Harry followed the wizard's command and reached over to retrieve the wand. An inch from his finger tips, red sparks shot from the wand and connected with Harry's hand. He yelped, cradling his tingling hand.  
  
[Sorry about that. Weak as I could make it. If you don't wish someone to touch your wand, you can command it to release up to a full powered Stunning spell into them. The choice is yours. Do you wish to go through with the ritual?[  
  
[Yeah, I guess,[ Harry answered. With his affirmation, Bob waved his wand and the window went dark, plunging the room into almost total darkness relieved only by the glow eminating from a large glass bottle containing a heavily enchanted pint of Harry's blood.  
  
****  
  
Author's Notes - This chapter is a little short. Uh, I'm kinda skipping forward in chunks for now, and will probably continue to do so for a while if I continue this. About Harry being an animagi, I didn't know that there were so many HP fics where he ends up as one. I'd only read a few HP fics when I started this and since I'm not going to change my plans because of other fics, I stuck with this. I just want to clear some stuff up real quick about Harry in this fic. In the last few days I've read too many fics where Harry all of a sudden gains phenomenal powers and knowledge or becomes an animagi in about ten minutes or has a total change in character without any explanation. I'm going to try to avoid that in this fic. Harry is going to be a powerful wizard, very powerful actually, but he's still inexperienced and not really able to throw his weight around magically all that much. One question, well two really. I'm not at all familiar with the HP fandom, so it came as a shock to me when I saw so many yaoi Harry/Draco and Snape/Harry/whoever pairings, as well as the Draco/Ginny and Draco/Hermione pairings. How in hell does anyone manage to come up with those? I just don't see it. In Ranma it's conceivable that other characters can be matched up with each other despite canon. They all have at least a few redeeming qualities, even if most of them do suffer from at least one dangerous mental condition. But Snape and Draco? You girls are smoking some serious shit. Okay, now I'm going to hide so that hordes of furious fangirls don't murder me. 


End file.
